


Forget-me-not

by digitalsoop



Category: Free!
Genre: F/M, Gen, the fanchild Minoru makes a featured appearance!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2347232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digitalsoop/pseuds/digitalsoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Until death do us part, no matter how much I beg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> A special thanks to cantabrasil03 for all the help with everything medical! And a huge shout out to the OST of Lilium: Shoujo Junketsu Kangeki for being the perfect mood music, even though this story has nothing to do with vampires.

Makoto enjoyed every second of his leave from school to be with Gou and their son. Minoru had grown rapidly, getting heavier, pudgier and taller every day. It had been a scramble to get pictures of him in as many cute outfits as possible before he inevitably outgrew them. He took the quick changes and the posing in stride; he was an astonishingly calm baby; he spent more time yawning and laying with his tongue barely out than anything else, but they never worried. Gou had whispered it first, watching their son slowly kick his feet from his place on his back: “He’s so observant. He’s thinking so hard.”

Even knowing that his eyes weren’t very keen at such a young age, it was easy to tell that he was doing his utmost to focus and take in everything he could.  Makoto would often try to see what his son might be seeing; he would lie down on the floor and let his tiny hand hold one of his fingers, and they would look around the room together. Sometimes Minoru would actually speak up, gurgling and kicking his legs, and Makoto would smile. “Is that so? Really?”

When Gou wasn’t at work she was invited to join them. “What are we observing today, Minoru?”

He would wave his hands, kick his legs, and babble on at his own meandering pace. He always felt more talkative when his mother was around. Of course, Mama always knew just when to ask questions, and when to laugh, and when to share her thoughts. She laughed and tickled his neck, making him curl up and screech with laughter. “Again?”

"Ay! Ay!"

It was always Makoto’s sad duty to remind Gou that it was time for them to eat lunch, to take a nap, to eat dinner, to go to bed. She wondered, as they were changing into their pajamas, if she would be able to get more days off from work. “I just wish our budget wasn’t so tight. And we will not be asking anyone for help.”

"I know, I know. I don’t want help from anyone either." He kissed her shoulder and rubbed her back. "I can always go back to school early."

"I can’t ask you to do that, Makoto."

"But I still get winter and summer break off. That’s more than you would get."

"No." She turned and put a finger against his mouth. "I supported your decision. I wanted you to spend more time with your son. That hasn’t changed. It’s important to me, too, okay?" He nodded and she smiled, pulling her hand away. "Good. Now, how about you rub my back before bed?"

Not having to wake up before dawn was, in reality, what he really enjoyed the most. That was why he was able to stay up later, placing gentle kisses on the soft skin of Gou’s back; he was able to eat breakfast with his family and give Gou a kiss goodbye when she was wide awake and able to appreciate it; he was able to take Minoru for walks in his stroller, visit with his friends and family, and not have a single thought of essays or tests in the back of his mind while he was out. All of his focus could be put on his son’s round cheeks, and the way he smacked his lips with his tiny tongue as he ate pureed fruit and vegetables for lunch. 

He used the small spoon to wipe away some of the mess from around his mouth; Minoru looked like a gold fish, opening and closing his mouth, an automatic reaction that he hadn’t quite outgrown and that Makoto still liked to take advantage of. “Mama always yells at me because she thinks I’m teasing you too much like this. But you don’t mind it, right?” With a determined tilt of the head Minoru caught the spoon in his mouth and gave his father a triumphant glance. “Ah—who taught you that? Did you teach yourself?”

He wanted to send Gou a text with the news that Minoru had outsmarted his teasing tactics, which he happily praised him for while he wiped sweet potatoes off of his soft cheeks. By the time Minoru was clean and lunch was cleaned up, the front door clicked open and Gou announced she was home over the distinct thud of her shoes.

The clock in the kitchen ticked, ticked, ticked. 12 o’clock. She was home an hour early.

"Welcome home. You didn’t skip lunch again, did you?" He carried Minoru to the front door so they could give her the usual kisses. Gou was sitting on the floor, one hand on her forehead and the other gripping the edge of the step. Her shoes had been kicked off and left where they landed instead of carefully removed and placed perfectly against the wall. The door was still wide open. "Gou? Gou, what’s wrong?"

"I just feel dizzy—tired. I’ll be alright after I rest." Her hand trembled, completely unable to wave away his worries. Minoru’s only concern was reaching his mother, and he was leaning as far out of Makoto’s arms as he could. Gou smiled and opened her arms; she was pale and sweat was starting to bead at her temples, but he couldn’t refuse letting her have time with her son. Minoru settled into her lap and laid his head against her chest, happily accepting all the kisses she placed on his head. "I missed you so much today. Do you want to take your nap with Mama? I definitely need one."

"Gou, if you have a fever—"

"I don’t think I do." Her breaths were slow and deep, and she nodded towards Minoru. "I really think a nap with my baby is all I need. Here—"

Though he had never been one to fuss, Minoru was not at all happy when Makoto picked him up again. He grunted and shook his fists, wiggling like a fish dragged out of the sea. His efforts were no match for his father’s sturdy hands; just one was enough to hold him, leaving the other free to help Gou to bed. Her hands were clammy. When she dropped onto their bed with a sigh, he touched the back of her neck and her forehead.

"You really don’t have a fever." He frowned. Gou was still able to give him a triumphant glance despite her exhaustion. He placed Minoru next to her on the bed, and he flopped back with a sigh and looked at Gou for what to do next. "I’m going to clean up the kitchen, so you’re in charge Minoru. Don’t let Mama play around. It’s nap time."

Minoru put his palm against Gou’s cheek and nodded. “Ay. Nasmi, Mama.”

"Goodnight, Minoru. Goodnight, Papa."

"I’ll check on you in a bit, okay?" He took careful steps backwards, watching Minoru cuddle up against her. She had already closed her eyes; her head lolled to the side and one of her arms hung over the edge of the bed. Paired with a heavy baby doing his best to use her as a pillow, she would be awake and complaining about sore muscles by the time he had come back from washing the dishes.

Most of Minoru’s lunches came from a jar and there were only a few dishes from his own lunch—his favorite curry that he kept eating despite Gou’s protests—but feeding a baby was messy. There was a high chair to clean, a bib to rinse off before it stained, and a few spots of sweet potato on the floor. He had neglected to wipe the bottom of the spoon against the edge of the jar and it had dripped all over. That was part of the reason Gou insisted he spend less time teasing Minoru and more time feeding him. The clock ticked over the soft clinks of dishes in the sink, and the swish of a rag on the high chair tray and the floor. It was covered by the rush of hot water and resigned sighs; no matter how hard he scrubbed the bib was still covered in faint spots of orange. Sweet potatoes were a formidable foe. 

"I wonder if Mom would have any advice." He held the sopping bib up for inspection. Water dripped into the sink, metallic and heavy ticks. There were probably all kinds of strange mixes to make and scrubbing he would have to do. "Then again, stains are just a part of life."

He hung the bib over the edge of the sink. The clock ticked loudly as the minute hand jumped forward. 12:13 PM. He turned and leaned back against the counter. He closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders. The bright, upbeat chime of his cell phone drew him out of the kitchen and into the living room. The ringing was muffled, and he wandered around for a few moments searching through the room. At some point during the morning it had gotten wedged between the couch cushions, but he didn’t have time to wonder about how it had happened.

He was still sprawled over the arm of the couch when he answered the phone. “Hello?”

"Mako-chan!" Nagisa’s sing-song greeting was unmistakable. "How are you?"

"You know, you always call at nap time without fail."

"I wanted to visit today, remember? You said you would call me back but that was hours ago so—"

"Ah, that’s right. Minoru and I started coloring, and then we got hungry."

"Right, right."

"Actually, I would have to ask Gou. She came home early from work and wasn’t feeling too well."

"Does she have a cold? Do you want me to pick up medicine, or soup?"

He hummed and pushed himself off the couch. “Let me see—she was going to take a nap with Minoru, so they’re in our bed.”

Nagisa cooed. “That’s really cute. Your whole family is so cute, Mako-chan, you’re so lucky.”

"I’m not the only lucky one, you know," he laughed as quietly as he could, tiptoeing towards their bedroom. "Hold on, I’m going to ask Gou now." Nagisa’s reply was muffled against his shoulder. Minoru was fast asleep, but was one roll away from the edge of the bed. Gou’s arm was still draped over the side of the bed, her head still lolled to one side. He strode around their bed as quietly as possible, nudging Minoru into a roll that put him back in the middle of the bed. The nudge made him whine but he stayed asleep, and Makoto sighed in relief.

"Gou?" He frowned and reached across Minoru to touch her arm. She still had no fever, but she was pale. The beautiful rose pink of her lips had nearly disappeared, and what was left but a faint purple tinge that made his stomach churn. "Gou. Honey, Nagisa is on the phone. Honey?"

Minoru stretched his arms and legs, squinting up at him as he gently shook Gou’s arm. Her head bobbed towards her shoulder, her teeth clicking together. He reached up and cradled her chin, tilting her head back up. Her jaw was completely slack. Her eyes didn’t twitch or open. He dropped the phone onto the bed and grabbed her shoulders. “Gou? Gou, wake up.” He cupped her cheeks in his hands, brushing his thumbs against pale skin. There was no irritated sigh or grumble, no quiet hum and request for five more minutes. There was no breath ghosting across his hands. His throat tightened, and he felt his voice crack as he yelled her name and stumbled around to the other side of the bed. Minoru let out a startled cry, clenching his fists and trying to cover his ears.

"No, no, no, honey, please—" he slid his arms underneath her neck and her knees, lifting her up off the bed. She hung over his arms, heavy, but flimsy like silk. He fell to his knees and her hair pooled on the floor, a bright red stain beneath her body. Minoru continued to cry. Nagisa’s frantic voice was a buzz in his ear, but when he rested his head against Gou’s chest there was silence, a silence that roared over him like the ocean.

He reached blindly for his phone, catching Nagisa midsentence. “—happened? Are you there? Hey, Makoto! Is Minoru alright? Hey!”

"I have to go, Nagisa."

Nagisa stammered, but Makoto promptly ended the call and dialed the emergency number. He turned on the speaker and set the phone aside; with his hands free he placed the heel of one hand on her sternum, and the other hand on top of the first. His phone stopped ringing as he pressed down, wincing at the pop that followed.

"What’s your emergency?" 

"My wife is—she’s—please, I need help. Someone has to help her. I’m trying to do CPR. She’s not breathing. Please, hurry."

"Okay, I’m sending someone to you now, okay?"

"We just had a son." His shoulders hunched as he took a deep breath. The dispatcher was trying to talk to him, maybe asking him another question, he didn’t know. The realization that Minoru was still there, that he was still crying, gave him a strange sense of calm. He tilted Gou’s chin up and began compressing her chest again, counting under his breath. "Wake up. Wake up."

"Sir, can you hear me?"

"Y-yes. Yes, I can. I’m trying to help her."

"Is anyone else in need of assistance?"

"No, no. I came to check on her and she was—my son is okay, but my wife is—she has no pulse, she isn’t breathing. I need help." He gritted his teeth. There was another pop beneath his hands. Gou didn’t flinch or groan. She didn’t cry or yell at him to stop. He leaned down over her, tilting her chin further up so he could try and breathe some of his own life into her.

He parted his lips and sobbed. He stroked her face, running his fingers through her hair, wiping away his tears from her skin. He sobbed until his chest hurt. He begged until he could no longer understand what he was saying. When the paramedics arrived he was gasping for breath and choking on sobs that he couldn’t stop; he was too tired to resist being pulled away. He didn’t complain about being propped up against the bed, only covered his face with his hands. The paramedics spoke in measured tones, reciting lines that they must have been practicing for years. He didn’t understand any of it. He didn’t want to.

"Sir." The paramedic was a woman. She had wide hands that easily covered his shoulders, and a crackle in her voice that most people only had after just waking up. "I need you to take deep breaths so you can calm down, okay? Can you tell me your name?"

"Tach—tachibana," he gasped and moved his hands so he could breathe, "Makoto Tachibana."

"Tachibana-san what’s your son’s name?"

"Minoru."

"How old is he?"

"His first birthday is soon."

It was difficult to swallow and his hands shook, but his breathing was slowly starting to rasp less, and fill his lungs. The paramedic had a very round face and small eyes; it reminded him of an old doll he had seen in a museum. “Tachibana-san we’re going to take your wife to the hospital. The doctors are going to be waiting for her. Does she have any allergies, or take any medication?”

He pushed his hair back from his forehead. He couldn’t remember. Had she started taking birth control again? Had she mentioned a medication allergy to him? She had talked once about how anesthesia made her sick, but did that count? “I want to go with her.”

"You can’t bring Minoru, and you can’t leave him here alone." She gave him a stern look, trying to keep his focus on her. Her partner hefted a bag onto his shoulder and jumped to his feet. He thudded out of the bedroom and into the front yard; the ambulance doors were slamming outside. "You’ll have to meet us at the hospital."

"We don’t have a car—I have to go with her."

"Get someone here to watch your son, and you can."

There was no strength left in his body, but he forced himself to stand and pick up Minoru and his phone. Once he was in his father’s arms, Minoru quieted almost immediately, draping himself over a broad shoulder. Makoto’s hands shook badly, his thumb skittering across the wrong numbers and the wrong icons. He swore under his breath and dialed with so much force he was surprised the phone didn’t break.

"Hello."

"Haruka, I need you to come over."

"What’s wrong?" His sharp voice startled Makoto into silence. Faintly, probably from another room, Rin asked who had called. "Makoto, are you okay?"

"I’m okay. I just need you to take care of Minoru for a while." He closed his eyes and swallowed. He couldn’t let his voice crack now. "I only have a few more minutes."

Haruka muttered something, his hand covering the phone. Rin’s reply was puzzled, and after a brief pause he sighed and sounded resigned. Haruka uncovered the phone. “I’m coming.”

He dropped his cell phone onto the bed. It bounced across the mattress, stopping in the rumpled comforter where Gou had been sleeping. Dizziness rushed over him, gripping his chest and making his shoulders shake. He swung one arm, catching the edge of the bed as he collapsed onto his knees. Silence swarmed around him, muffling voices and gasps for breath. Pudgy hands gripped his shirt and tugged at his hair; a pitiful whine broke through the dull roar that filled his ears. He closed his eyes and felt Minoru’s weight and warmth against his hands.

Everything seemed very still then; deep breaths and a strong heartbeat; the faint scent of Gou’s perfume mingling with baby powder and soap; the reassurance that clumsy hands and drool could bring when they came from his son. When he opened his eyes, he told himself that he did it with acceptance. He waited for Haruka in a daze. When he arrived, pale and wide eyed, Makoto was able to hand over Minoru with a smile. “Don’t worry. Meet us at the hospital, okay?”

They let him hold Gou’s hand in the ambulance. It was still warm. It still fit perfectly between his large, clumsy hands. It was as beautiful as it had been the day he had slipped that glittering ring onto her finger. He lifted her hand to his lips and held it there, memorizing the smooth skin, the bumps of her knuckles, and the tiny scar from burning herself on the oven.

The jog into the hospital was as easy as a jog on the beach, but then there were hands on his shoulders, pushing him away from Gou, pulling her hand out of his grasp. What was he supposed to do?

"Makoto."

"Haruka?" He blinked rapidly, looking away from his hands. His legs were numb, but his feet were throbbing. "Where’s Minoru?"

"With your Mom." Haruka’s expression was solemn, but his eyes darted across his face, searching. "Makoto—"

"How long has it been?"

"An hour. Rin is outside. He didn’t want to stay here. I didn’t argue with him."

"Rin—?" There was no door leading outside. The room they were in was lit by a lamp, which made everything in the room a dingy yellow. He was standing in front of a couch, facing a wall covered in beige, textured wallpaper. He had waited here for an hour—or was it less than that? He had waited, and then stopped waiting. "They said I could take my time."

"Yeah."

"Haru." He tried to smile and it was his turn to search for something, anything, in that solemn expression. Haruka met his gaze, expression unchanged, but then his brow furrowed and his lips twitched. "Haru, please, don’t."

"Makoto—"

"Don’t!" He clenched his hands and Haruka stayed silent. Makoto’s breaths were ragged, and his fists shook. His knees were starting to follow. He didn’t need a glance to know that Haruka had turned his head. The weight of rage settled in his stomach quickly and his throat and chest burned, like a trail of hot coals that refused to go out. There was nothing he could do but scream. "Gou—Gou! Give her back! Make them give her back! Haru—"

Haruka caught his elbow and collapsed to the floor with him, accepting each shake and bruising grip to his arms. “I’m sorry.”


	2. Two

Seagulls cried out together, riding the strong winds that were rustling papers strewn on the living room floor of the Tachibana house. The door leading to the backyard had been left open, welcoming the fresh, summer breeze inside. Ocean salt stuck to Makoto’s face and arms, making his skin clammy and warm and leaving the strong scent of the beach in the cushions of the couch.

Water was running in the kitchen, ringing off the bottom of a pot. His toes curled. He held his breath, stretched his arms above his head, and pulled a piece of thin fabric across his face. The ocean was gone, overwhelmed by the rich smell of flowers and spice. His mouth was dry, but he sighed and licked his lips. “Gou, are you making lunch?”

"Yep! But no curry. You’re on a curry ban."

"You know it’s my favorite." The couch creaked beneath him and colorful fabric fell into his lap as he sat up. Rows of feathers were painted on creamy, lightweight polyester. Gou must have taken the scarf off and tossed it on him while he was sleeping. It was cool and smooth between his fingers, rippling further and further outwards, folding an draping across the couch and across the floor until the whole room was swathed in fabric.

"Well your breath afterwards is definitely not my favorite, so it’s banned."

"But I always brush my teeth after," he grumbled. He got up from the couch, wiggling his toes against the soft feathers. The seagulls cried out again, swooping in lazy circles as he walked. Each step was an easy stroll through fine sand, without any of the grains stuck to his skin or caught between his toes. "Well, if it’s banned, what are we eating?"

"Mackerel!"

He laughed and stretched his arms above his head. The scarf whipped up towards the ceiling, snapping like a flag on a ship. “Have you been taking cooking advice from Haru?”

"Something like that. The seagulls are excited, anyway."

He looked up at the sky, perfectly visible with no roof to block his view. “Well, they’re not really picky eaters, are they?” He paused and put his hands on his hips, sighing and looking over his shoulder to the open door. The sea was roaring outside, agitated by the strong winds. The kitchen wasn’t any closer no matter how many steps he took, but the running water and Gou’s voice were both so loud he was sure he was only a few feet away. There was the faint scent of smoke and ashes on the wind. The creamy, bright fabric was starting to stain and turn gray.

"Is it burning?"

"Is it?"

The seagulls screeched, landing around him and snapping at the legs of his pants. Wings smacked against the back of his head and he fell to his knees. The soft fabric was gone. Rough, dark stones scratched his hands and chilled his legs. He tried to swing his arms and drive the seagulls away, but they were fearless, picking at his shirt and his hair. There was nothing else he could do but cover his neck with his arms and duck his head. 

A thin, winding thread slithered through the grooves of the stones; bright red and stretching beyond his view and reach. “That’s enough!” He twisted his body and swung his fist. The seagulls vanished, their cries ringing in his ears; their feathers clattered to the ground and rolled across the hardwood floor; pale, off-white chips and pieces, like pebbles and broken chalk. And among the chips and pieces was that thin, red thread. It twisted and wound its way into the distance, a dark, smoke covered expanse. A void in a room lit by a dingy yellow light.

The floor boards creaked beneath him and the twinge in his toes as he settled into a crouch made him flinch. No matter how carefully he reached, the white pieces slipped out of his grasp. They were bumped by his fingers and sent flying, clicking out of sight. His curiosity was beat out by frustration, and he turned his focus to the red thread instead. The ringing in his ears was fading; now less of a screech and more of a whimper, a squeaking whine that was barely masked by the rush of running water. He knew that sound. That voice. It pulled him away from the thread and brought him back to the couch, dazed and unwilling to open his eyes.

"Let your Papa rest! This is his first nap in a long time."

"He really wants his Papa, huh?"

"I know it must be hard, but Brother really needs some sleep. Ah, I know! Minoru, let’s get your stroller! We’ll go for a walk together, okay?"

"He’ll need sunscreen, don’t forget."

"I won’t forget! We have to get the stroller first, you’re jumping ahead of things."

Those voices, too, were unmistakeable. He held his breath and rubbed his eyes. There were identical yelps of surprise when he sat up and yawned. “Ren, Ran, what are you doing here?”

Ren clapped a hand over his mouth and turned his head to Ran, who hefted Minoru up in front of her face. Minoru waved his arms, giving him a very serious, wide eyed look. A laugh shook Makoto’s stomach and chest, a sensation that felt more like a punch. The twins mumbled their apology in unison: “Sorry for waking you up, Brother.”

"Papa!" He raised his fists high above his head, repeating the motion and staring at Makoto.

Makoto obediently rose from the couch and scooped Minoru into his arms. “It’s alright. I feel like I’ve been sleeping for a while.”

"Mmm—well, actually—" Ran tilted her head.

Ren crossed his arms and tilted his head in the opposite direction. “It’s only been about four hours—”

"In the past week," they concluded. Makoto looked at Minoru’s pudgy cheeks and ran his fingers through his downy soft hair. Minoru sighed with that tiny, squeaky voice that had woken him up and rested one of those pudgy cheeks against his shoulder. It was hard to tell who was more weary.

Ran clasped her hands and regarded him with a tight lipped smile. “How are you feeling?”

"Hm? Confused, mostly." He frowned and turned a circle in the living room. A breeze came in from the backyard through the open door, along with the drone of cicadas. "You never said why you were visiting. Did I call you to babysit?"

"We volunteered actually."

Ren nodded in agreement with his sister. “I’ve been staying here the whole week to help out.”

"And I’ve been coming back every morning. Mama and Papa stop by sometimes, too." Ran waited a moment to gauge his reaction, which was minimal, and smiled. "Hey, do you want to take a walk with me and Minoru before—?"

"Ah, that sounds nice," he mumbled. Even with only four hours of sleep, and his high school stamina years behind him, he could always turn to exercise when he wasn’t sure what else to do. Now was definitely a time when he didn’t know what else to do, let alone what was going on. He patted Minoru’s back and swayed back and forth, leaving the twins to struggle with the stroller. "Rin usually comes with, maybe I should call him."

"Oh, well—"

"Do you want to walk with Rin instead?"

"I think that’d be a good idea."

"Yeah, you should walk down and get him."

"It’ll stop Ran from getting out of the housework again, too. I always get stuck with the cleaning."

Ran vehemently denied that she was trying to get out of anything, and listed all the times she had done chores and which specific chores they were. Makoto and Ren settled Minoru in the stroller and buckled him up; he appreciated the help. What had been second nature for so long had turned into a puzzle that his clumsy hands couldn’t manage. Ren tried to shove a bottle of sunscreen into his hands, but he simply pulled the sun visor down and said he would be back in a while.

There were some protests to his clothes and his hair, and his lack of breakfast—or lunch, given the time; he asked if Minoru had eaten, if he had been changed recently, and checked if his face was clean. His son was presentable and content, they confirmed, and the conversation ended with Makoto closing the door on his siblings.

He sighed, rolling his shoulders and pushing the stroller down the path and onto the sidewalk. The wheels of the stroller ran over pebbles, clicking and clacking. He licked his lips and clenched his jaw the whole walk towards the shrine, which Haruka and his parents still lived under. Minoru held onto his toes and sunk lower into the stroller, bouncing along without a single complaint. A silent companion, as usual.

"Hey, Minoru," his question hung in his throat, pushed back by the sight of stone steps. He licked his lips again, dragging his teeth across his bottom lip when he was done; it stung and his skin felt rough when he cautiously flicked his tongue across it. Hefting the stroller up the steps to Haruka’s home was a good distraction from the skin he had rubbed raw.

"Minoru. Did you even notice a week had passed?"

He babbled in reply and held onto his toes, wobbling from side to side with each step up the stairs. There wasn’t anything comprehensible in his entire speech, but that didn’t stop Makoto from continuing. “I remember reading that when a baby can’t see something, they think it doesn’t exist anymore.”

He placed the stroller down on the landing and sank down next to it. Minoru looked at him then, his eyes wide and gleaming with expectant curiosity. “I wonder what you’re thinking when you can hear me but you can’t see me. It must be a surprise, huh? I don’t exist but I’m still talking.” Makoto reached out and rubbed his thumb against one of his cheeks. Minoru was soft and warm and he gurgled at the touch, drawing a reluctant smile out of him. “I wonder,” he trailed off with a sigh. “Where was I for a whole week? Did I stop existing, Minoru?”

Minoru clasped his tiny hands around Makoto’s fingers, tugging and shaking; Makoto let his shoulder go slack so his arm wiggled with each of Minoru’s movements. He giggled, using as much strength as he could muster until he was shrieking with laughter. “Up!” He bounced in his stroller, and Makoto’s arm bounced with him.

"We’re taking a ride in the stroller, remember?" Not wanting to yank his fingers out of Minoru’s grasp he slowly brought his legs underneath him, settled into a crouch, and was almost completely hunched over by the time his legs were sraightened. "You like it when Uncle Rin pushes it, so you don’t want to get out yet."

It took a bit of wiggling and a lot of smiles to get Minoru to release him from his strong, determined grip, but when he finally let go Makoto was quick to heft the stroller up the last set of steps and turn up the short walkway to Haruka’s front door. He could have simply walked into the house unannounced; which door he chose to walk through wouldn’t have mattered in the slightest; after spending a few moments looking at the front door, and after glancing at the windows and towards the path to the backyard, Makoto rang the doorbell.

He hesitated in pulling his hand away, turning it so he could look at his palm and slowly curl his fingers. He felt a shout in the back of his throat; not one of frustration, or surprise, but a declaration. A noise to hopefully catch someone’s attention.

"Oi!"

His eyes darted up to the doorway and he clenched his fist. Rin was standing in front of him, one hand gripping the doorframe and he other hidden somewhere behind the door. His shoulders were tense, his lips set in a thin line. He had seen that look before, from someone much shorter and with smaller shoulders. Satisfied that Makoto was finally paying attention, Rin’s lip curled, baring teeth that could surely rip out his throat. “You’re going to ignore me here, too?”

"Sorry, I was just wondering why I rung the doorbell." He looked at his fist and Rin shifted his stance, standing up taller and lifting his chin. "We’re going for a walk. I wanted to invite you." 

"If Minoru wasn’t here I’d slam the door in your face, Tachibana." He spat the name out like a foul drink and took a step back. He hadn’t referred to Makoto so coldly in years. It made him feel very small, weighed down by a heavy, cold rock in his stomach. He didn’t know if he wanted to turn and walk away, or put his clenched fist to use.

"Please take a walk with us, Rin." He lowered his chin slightly. "It’s important."

Rin tilted his head, staring Makoto down and doing his best to ignore Minoru’s excited babbling and attempts to reach him from his stroller. He turned slightly, his hand still gripping the door frame and grabbed his shoes. He continued to stare him down as he slipped them on. “I’m not doing this for you, Tachibana, just so we’re clear. Like I said, if Minoru wasn’t here I wouldn’t have even let you get a word out. I would knock you flat on your ass. Got it?”

"Got it."

The conversation that followed was more lighthearted, but that was because Makoto was not included in it. Rin chatted with Minoru as the stroller was carried back down the steps, and as they began their walk; he asked if he had liked his breakfast, if he was having fun with Ren and Ran, if he had learned any new words or decided to start walking. Occasionally, while there was a lull in the meaningless chatter, Rin would deign to answer one of Makoto’s questions: Of course he wouldn’t be at work. Haruka was covering his shift at the swim club, so he wouldn’t be back until dinner. “Maybe Minoru can help me cook and Papa can go home.”

"Rin," Makoto frowned and tried to regard him sternly, but Rin refused to look at him, "I’m sorry, for whatever I did."

"For whatever you did?" Rin stopped, kicking the breaks of the stroller. "That’s what you’re going with? For whatever?"

Makoto stepped back, but Rin was quick to follow, catching the front of his shirt in his fist and jerkin him forward; his teeth clicked together, narrowly missing cutting off a piece of his tongue; if there had been any suitable surface nearby, Rin would have slammed him into it, but there was nothing close except the ocean.

He tried to push his hands away but Rin held fast, snarling swears and curses that Makoto barely recognized as English. He shook him violently, pushing him further from Minoru’s stroller and towards the sea wall. When Makoto tasted blood he gagged and grabbed Rin’s neck and face, twisting his body so they fell to the ground. Undeterred, Rin grabbed his chin; blood dripped from Makoto’s mouth onto his face, and he surged upward, pushing Makoto’s heavier weight backwards.

His head thudded against the cement, and Rin’s fists were quick to follow, catching his temple and continuing across his eye to the bridge of his nose. “You piece of shit—you piece of shit! She was my sister, she was my blood—all you have is a piece of paper!” He grabbed the front of his shirt again, panting. “You shouldn’t get to decide for the whole family like that. It’s just a piece of paper.”

Makoto coughed and turned his head to spit out the blood that was filling is mouth. Minoru was hiccuping and wailing plaintively a few feet away, and when Rin let him go and sat on the ground next to him, he was wiping at his eyes.

"I didn’t want to make you cry," Makoto muttered.

"Shut up! Do you want me to knock your teeth out?" Rin glared at him and stood up to reassure Minoru that everything was fine and there was nothing to cry about. Makoto decided it was best to lay on the ground until his head stopped throbbing and spinning. The clouds moved slowly above him, pushed by a wind that he couldn’t feel. Rin looked up at the sky with him, leaning against the stroller and reaching down so Minoru could old onto his fingers. His mouth was puckered into a pout, and he blinked quickly, trying to stop the tears before they could fall.

For a moment, Makoto saw someone with longer hair, longer eyelashes, pinker lips; someone shorter, with smaller shoulders and a softer face; someone that wasn’t hard muscle but was all warmth and soft skin. His eyes stung, his throat hurt; he could barely swallow. Rin, either out of compassion or pity, returned to reach out to him with far less malice than earlier.

He helped him to his unsteady feet, roughly wiped the blood off his chin, and waited patiently for Makoto to sob out his question: “What happened this week?”

Minoru’s walk was bound to be a short one after the fight had subsided, but as usual he didn’t voice a single complaint. Rin carried his stroller back up the steps and Makoto followed like a puppy, hoping that eventually he would get an answer to his question. There hadn’t been an outright refusal to answer him, or any sign that another punch was in his near future. Instead he had frowned, cringed, clicked his tongue; he looked towards the ocean, the concrete, and after catching Makoto’s eye for barely a second, he turned away and decided the walk was over.

"You know, that was the first time we ever fought." Makoto smiled and hunched his shoulders.

Rin clicked his tongue. “Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be smiling about that.”

"Sorry."

He nodded his head towards the door and Makoto dashed ahead of him to open it. Minoru’s babbling rose an octave when the stroller was pushed inside and he realized he was actually going inside of Uncle Haruka and Rin’s house; he waved a hand and jabbed a pudgy finger towards the hallway, demanding to go beyond the threshold faster than Rin could unbuckle him. Makoto turned towards them, hands outstretched to offer help, but Rin’s gaze shot up to his face and turned him to stone. “Makoto, it’s almost lunch time.”

"Right, yeah." He took a step back and stumbled into the house. His shoes clattered on the floor of the entrance; even after years of spent walking through the door his toe caught the edge of the step and he hopped into the hallway.

"Just grab a jar of the sweet potatoes and some of his crackers. We’re gonna eat in the other room."

His hand slid against the wall, slowing his walk so he could turn to him again. “Other room?”

Rin didn’t look at him or reply. He was completely focused on lifting Minoru out of the stroller and tossing him in the air, grinning at his shriek of excitement. His tiny voice begged to go Up, Up, Up, and Rin complied by swinging him above his head and kissing his stomach. Minoru smacked his head and laughed, grabbing long hair in fistfuls. Rin whined and clicked his tongue. “Come on, play nice!”

Makoto slunk into the living room, and it only took two steps to reach the kitchen from there. Minoru had his own shelf of food, something that Haruka had quietly prepared weeks before he was even born. It had slowly changed from empty bottles and a container of formula, to jars of pureed vegetables and crackers. Soon it would probably have healthy snacks carefully handpicked by Rin. Then, before he even realized it, the shelf would probably be lined with protein powder. Or, was that someone else who favored that vile stuff?

The jar of orange sweet potatoes fit exactly into the palm of his hand; the lid popped off with barely a turn of his wrist; Minoru’s excited babbling was coming up the hallway, and he became even more frantic when he realized food was waiting for him. If the doctor hadn’t reassured them that his pudgy, roly-poly shape wasn’t the result of over eating, he might have been concerned about his son’s passion for eating.

"Ah, ah, ah!"

"You’ve been ready for lunch time since you woke up, huh?" Rin was grinning when they walked into the living room together. Minoru’s eyes were wide and bright, his hands tapping against his mouth, shoving invisible food inside. Makoto carefully riffled through a drawer for one of three tiny spoons; it felt more like a pencil between his fingers, but with spoon in hand he turned to his son with a smile. Rin had stopped grinning, and he tilted his head to the side, towards a set of sliding doors that had rarely, if ever, been used. "Let’s feed him in there so we can talk."

The Other Room. A room off the living room that had no practical use for Haruka, and no practical use for Rin. It stayed empty. Untouched, except when it was occassionally dusted. Had they decided to put it to use? Was there a table in there now? Cushions to sit on? For all he knew they could have splurged on a kotatsu and it had simply slipped his mind, along with the rest of the week. But, it wasn’t cold. Even if the unlikely scenario was true, why was it necessary to be in that room?

Rin wasn’t waiting for an answer; with his jaw and mouth set in a grim line, his gaze distant and his shoulders tense, he was taking Minoru into the Other Room whether Makoto agreed or not. And for some reason, Makoto was leaning towards Not. Maybe Rin’s demeanor made him uneasy, or maybe it was the tiny flicker of something—a fuzzy, jumping feeling in the center of his chest that shook his stomach and tightened his throat—a feeling that he knew what the Other Room was meant to be used for, and he didn’t like it.

"Papa!" Minoru reached over Rin’s shoulder, his expression stern. He opened and closed a fist, demanding his jar of food. Makoto followed with lead feet and a smile. Rin paused to slide the door open, checking to see if he had followed but covering it with a gentle kiss to the side of Minoru’s head. He leaned back, used his pudgy hands to hold Rin’s face, and planted a messy kiss on his cheek in return. He babbled on in his tiny voice, patting in his kiss to make sure it stayed in place, and Rin accepted the treatment with a strained smile.

The Other Room had no table, but that wasn’t necessary to feed Minoru. More concerning was the overpowering smell of incense. It filled Makoto’s head and took the air from his chest, leaving him reeling in a room that was starting to tilt. A tight hold on his wrist steadied him, but only enough for him to be able to plant his feet firmly on the floor. “Rin, I can’t.”

Rin’s brow furrowed, not in anger or annoyance, but concern. “It’s okay, Makoto.” He smiled and his entire expression softened, saddened. He tilted his head, forcing Makoto to look him in the eye. “But Minoru and I are going to eat in here, so—” the pressure on his wrist was gone. Minoru and Rin held out a hand for the jar of food, despite the warning that there was no way little paws would get that jar. Even that simple request was met with reluctance.

"I’m sorry." Makoto cradled the jar in his hands. His eyes stung, and the strong scent of incense continued to push the air out of his lungs. His knees threatened to buckle, but were no match for his determination to stay completely still, stuck in place, refusing to step forward or back. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry."

"Makoto—" Rin set Minoru on the floor, which offended the baby for only a moment.

"Just take the jar, I’m sorry. I can’t. I can’t."

The jar was snatched from his hands. The sympathy had left Rin’s eyes. “And what are you going to do? Run away again? Leave me standing here to take care of everything?”

"I’m sorry."

"You don’t even know what you’re sorry for!" Rin’s voice cracked. "Why can’t you just face it like everyone else, Makoto? What is Minoru going to do if you keep acting like this?"

"I don’t know. You’re right, I don’t know." He crouched down and rested his head against his hands. "I don’t know anything. I don’t know what I’m doing."

Minoru’s babbling made him lift his head. He had crawled his way beyond he threshold, moving with all the speed and agility a roly-poly baby in diapers could muster. Makoto settled on his knees, unable to do much more than lean forward. His son continued to scuffle across the tatami mats and towards the wall, where a small alcove held the incense. “Hey, Minoru, wait—don’t touch—”

He settled on his butt with a soft thud, pointing towards the alcove. His eyes were wide, surprised that he had to justify his actions or surprised that no one else had noticed, Makoto wasn’t really sure. He jabbed his finger, urging them to pay attention. “Mama!”

Rin looked away. “Minoru.”

"Mama!" He held up both arms towards the alcove and bounced, oblivious that his uncle had turned his back on him and that his father had hidden his face in his hands, muffling sobs. He babbled on, grabbing for the framed picture that had been nestled between the burning incense; a pristine photo of Gou surrounded by white, her eyes bright and her skin glowing with a pleased blush; she was on the edge of a giggle. Her smile was wide. The hand that had been pressed against her cheek was curling towards her mouth to hide her laugh. A young woman excited to be a bride.

"That’s right. That’s a picture of Mama." Rin’s voice was caught on the verge of cracking. "Mama’s far away now, remember?"

Minoru had a lot to say about this injustice, pouting and whining, and asking for Papa’s input on the matter. But Makoto had nothing to say. He couldn’t even force out another sob. For a week, he had lived as if nothing had happened. He had forgotten anything had happened—pretended nothing had happened. He must have known something when he had emptied the house of reminders, hiding them where he couldn’t stumble upon her face, or her clothes, or her shampoo; he must have known what he was doing when he carefully avoided the altar where a pristine urn sat with a pristine photo and unlit incense.

With startling clarity he could remember thanking God that Minoru looked nothing like Gou.

And now, huddled on the floor with Rin staring down at him, while his son gently touched the smooth glass protecting his mother from harm, he remembered the wake, the funeral. The incessant sutras, the reek of incense clinging to everyone’s hair and clothes, the parade of faces he barely recognized and the envelopes that had later been shoved into his hands. Money to help pay for something he could barely remember organizing. The agonizing wait for the fire to die, to be told that, finally, it was over, only to realize he was left with a tray of ash, and bones, and chopsticks.

Rin wanted to separate her. Take a part of her to the top of the hill, above the ocean. He wanted the wind to carry her where it willed, a sentiment that everyone but Makoto found lovely. He could feel the No on his lips still, possessive venom that he had spat in the middle of Rin’s excited planning.

_I won’t allow it._

His cheek was sore beneath his cautious, probing fingers; bitter copper still filled his mouth. Retribution for using a piece of paper to silence his in-laws and have the final say. He didn’t feel regret, or anger. He felt like static. Like sea foam nudged by roaring waves. His fingers pinched the air in front of him, and Makoto blinked. Where was the red string?


End file.
